


smell the concrete roses

by robotsdontcry



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdontcry/pseuds/robotsdontcry
Summary: “It was Shinra,” Barret repeats. “They’re the ones who destroyed my hometown, those wretched bastards. I lost everything to them.”Cloud says nothing, just slowly, reluctantly, releases his grip on his sword. There’s something electric thrumming in his veins, a restless energy he knows all too well. He keeps his arms firmly knitted to his sides and his fists clenched tight.
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace
Comments: 5
Kudos: 117





	smell the concrete roses

Nightfall above the plate is far from quiet. Cloud can practically taste the smoke and exhaust from the expressway, the harsh sounds of the industrial sector, as he leans against the train station wall with his arms crossed. Beside him, Barret’s talking enough for the both of them, something about taking down Shinra and saving the Planet, his rough voice blending with the constant noise coming from the reactor.

“You got anything better to do than run your mouth all the time?” Cloud says, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Nah,” Barret replies, resting his gun-arm on one bouncing knee and tapping rhythms onto the concrete with his free hand. Cloud follows his movements with something between indifference and mild annoyance. He’s never seen Barret stop moving, even for a second.

Cloud doubts he’ll get used to Midgar’s busy patterns anytime soon. His fatigued mind aches for the quiet countryside, conjuring up hazy images of lush backcountry, golden fields stretching on for miles, the sun peeking over the edge of the mountain at dawn. Memories as sweet as they are painful, that make him smile even when they threaten to tear his mind in half.

“You ain’t from the city, are you,” Barret says, and Cloud snaps back to the present.

“How’d you know?” he says casually. Tries for cool, detached disinterest.

“It’s obvious,” Barret says. “You ain’t used to the noise. And you’re always such a tight-ass. Though,” he adds after a moment, “that might just be ‘cause you were SOLDIER.”

Whenever it's just the two of them, Cloud’s always got some snarky comment or sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, but not this time. It’s nearly midnight and his exhaustion gets the better of him, the electric lights and glowing billboards in the distance starting to swirl together. He rubs at his tired eyes and says, “Yeah, maybe.” 

The train taking them back to the undercity is supposed to come in fifteen minutes. Cloud crosses his arms again and Barret’s fingers keep tapping and tapping on the concrete, and Cloud’s head is starting to hurt just watching him. He’s about to open his mouth to tell Barret to be quiet, for the love of God, when he remembers the conversation he’d had with Tifa that morning.

 _Talk to him,_ she said. _I have a feeling you’ll get along._

 _Yeah, right,_ Cloud mumbled.

 _I mean it,_ she insisted, eyes flashing. _You two have a lot in common._ Then, quieter: _I think he just needs a friend._

Cloud snorted at that. _He’s got Marlene. And Avalanche._

 _For your sake, then,_ Tifa replied, not missing a beat. _You need more friends too_.

 _Don’t be ridiculous,_ Cloud said. _I’m not here to make friends. I just need the money. That’s all._

 _Please. Just do it,_ she said, her eyes going all soft and sad in that way of hers, and Cloud sighed and relented because even after all these years, he never could say no to Tifa.

So here they are now, waiting in an uncomfortable silence for the train to arrive. Cloud struggles to find for something to say that won't make him sound like a complete asshole. “How about you?” he tries, lamely. “You like the city?”

“Hell, yeah,” Barret says. “I love it. It’s loud and noisy. Never stops moving.”

“Perfect for you,” Cloud can’t help but mutter. 

Like clockwork, Barret takes the bait, turning toward him with a scowl. “What was that, spikey?”

“Nothing,” Cloud says.

“Thought so.”

There’s a pause before Cloud speaks up again, but this time it’s more out of a sudden curiosity than anything. “Were you born here?”

Barret gives him a look, half appraising and half suspicious, probably wondering what the hell got into him. Cloud’s not quite sure either, but decides to go with it anyway. To keep himself composed, he focuses all the anxious energy buzzing in his body on his breathing. A steady rhythm, in and out.

Then Barret sighs, sucks in a deep breath and blows it out through his nose. “Nah,” he says finally. “Came from a mining town in the middle of nowhere. Doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Maybe I have,” Cloud says. “What’s the name?”

“Corel,” Barret says, and the hesitation before he says the word is telling. There’s an unspoken question in his voice, almost urgent. Cloud shrugs.

“No idea.” It makes sense, though, that Barret came from someplace outside Midgar. One moment he’s cursing and firing his gun-arm at anything that moves; the next, he’s humming an old mining song when he thinks only Marlene can hear him. There’s an aching nostalgia for another place and time, even if it only exists in memory. Cloud knows because he can never outrun the feeling, no matter how much he tries.

Barret deflates a little—from relief or disappointment, Cloud can’t tell. Then again, his eyes are still shaded by those sunglasses of his, so it’s damn near impossible to tell what he’s really feeling right now.

“Shinra,” Barret says suddenly, his voice tense.

“What?” In a heartbeat, Cloud has a hand on the hilt of his sword. He scans the train station, expecting to see security officers heading their way, but a glance to the side tells him that Barret’s gaze is focused on something only he can see.

“It was Shinra,” Barret repeats. “They’re the ones who destroyed my hometown, those wretched bastards. I lost everything to them.”

Cloud says nothing, just slowly, reluctantly, releases his grip on his sword. There’s something electric thrumming in his veins, a restless energy he knows all too well. He keeps his arms firmly knitted to his sides and his fists clenched tight.

“To hell with Shinra!” Barret lets out a mangled cry that sounds more animal than human, and stands and raises his gun-arm. There’s no telling what Barret will do when he gets like this; worst-case scenario, he opens fire on innocent citizens, and even at this hour there are bystanders waiting for the train. Cloud grabs Barret’s other arm without thinking, the flesh-and-blood one. 

“Hey! Cool it.”

Barret whirls on him, sunglasses gleaming. “What?”

“Stop,” Cloud says, urgently this time. He forces his voice to stay cool and controlled, even as every fiber in his body trembles with barely-suppressed energy. His heart’s pounding, his mouth dry. When had he felt like this before? “Opening fire here isn’t gonna do you any good. These are innocent people.”

“Innocent people who aren’t taking any action,” Barret spits out. A few heads in the station turn; they’re causing a scene. “They’re just as bad as Shinra.”

“Just stop it,” Cloud repeats firmly, and after a beat, Barret curses under his breath and lowers his gun-arm. He keeps staring at Cloud, though, who suddenly feels exposed. Too exposed. He quickly withdraws his hand, fighting the urge to run and hide.

“What’s it to you, anyway,” Barret scowls. “I’ve got something against Shrina, so what? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“It does,” Cloud insists. Tifa comes to mind first—she’s the reason they even know each other in the first place, the only link between their worlds—but that doesn’t feel quite right, so he shuts his mouth before he can say anything stupid.

“Really? Well, what is it?” Barret takes a step forward, challenging. “Is it ’cause you used to be Shinra’s puppet?”

Cloud crosses his arms, meets his gaze without flinching.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Barret continues. “You, who don’t give a shit about anything? Hell, do you even have emotions at all? You’re like a damn machine.” Cloud’s patience is rapidly running out, but Barret charges onward like a train gaining momentum. “It’s Shinra, ain’t it? They made you the way you are?”

“Fuck you,” Cloud snarls. Something small and scared trembles inside him, fighting to get out. Barret's surprise is immediate and obvious. He gets the message and shuts up, watching carefully, as Cloud struggles to contain—whatever it is that he’s feeling.

“You don’t know me,” he says, voice raw and low. “I get it. I hate Shinra too.”

“You do?” Barret sounds incredulous.

“Why else do you think I quit SOLDIER?” Cloud almost shouts in frustration. “Why else would I be blowing up their reactors?” Barret snorts, and suddenly the absurdity of the situation hits them both. The tension lightens a little, encouraging Cloud to continue.

“They took everything from me too,” he says. “And it’s not just me and you. They’ve hurt a lot of people. So—” He stops, struggling to find the right words.

“So what?” Barret says, and keeps staring. Cloud makes a frustrated noise. Something tells him he’s in uncharted territory now, and there’s no way out except forward.

“So, what I mean is—” He averts his eyes and stares at the floor instead of looking at Barret. The words come slowly, unnaturally, like they’re being ripped from his throat. “Believe it or not, I feel things too. I just don’t show it." And though he'll never admit it out loud, maybe he envies the way Barret feels things so openly, so honestly, like he has nothing to hide. “So quit acting like you’re alone in this, okay? ‘Cause you’re not.”

Silence. Cloud holds every muscle in his body perfectly still, waiting. Then Barret grunts.

“That should be my line.”

He plunks himself down on the concrete, and after a beat Cloud follows suit, leaning back against the wall and resting his arm on one knee. His body sighs in relief as the tension drains away, one muscle at a time, and he can no longer hear the blood pounding in his ears. For a moment they sit in silence, but somehow it's less charged than the one before.

“It’s funny,” Barret says finally. He's staring into the distance, expression unreadable. “Even after all that shit with Shinra, I think the one person I can never forgive—is myself.”

Cloud watches Barret rotate his gun-arm until his palm faces upward, curling his fingers into the shape of a fist. The cool metal catches the light of a streetlamp, and Cloud thinks he’s starting to get it.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice sounds strange and unfamiliar to his own ears. It's an entirely new, but not unpleasant, feeling, and he takes it and runs with it. “You’re human. You make mistakes.” He swallows and forces himself to continue. “We all do.”

Barret wears anger like Cloud wears stoicism: as a shield, a defense against the pain. In the end, though, it can’t protect against the self-hatred. The fear of becoming a machine.

Barret laughs for real then, and it sounds all choked up. “Don’t do that, spike-head. Don’t do that to me.”

“Don’t do what?” Cloud says.

“You’re gonna—I’m gettin’ a lump in my throat all of a sudden.” Barret turns to look at him then, and Cloud catches a glimpse of something behind his sunglasses. Something grateful. “Really, though,” and here his voice goes quiet, “thanks. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Me neither,” Cloud admits, and Barret grins, a sad and hopeful thing. Then they just sit there in the sea of lights, waiting for the train, and everything is drowned out by the distant sounds of traffic and the steady hum of the reactor.

**Author's Note:**

> playing through og FF7 while watching the remake and i have Feelings.


End file.
